


If Dreams Came True

by Xanister



Category: Blink-182, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Band Fic, Blink as a family again, Gen, Happy, If Dreams Came True, Inspired by Music, No Smut, What-If, i just want everyone to be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 06:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9643799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xanister/pseuds/Xanister
Summary: Authors Note: This features real people and is a piece of total fiction. Should this actually come to pass (I’ll be so happy) it’s pure coincedence and I take NO credit. No shipping, G rated, wishful thinking.References: Reading 2014, easily found on Youtube.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Authors Note: This features real people and is a piece of total fiction. Should this actually come to pass (I’ll be so happy) it’s pure coincedence and I take NO credit. No shipping, G rated, wishful thinking.
> 
> References: Reading 2014, easily found on Youtube.

The crowd is ready. They’ve been woken up and stirred to attention by the DJ set and energized by the opening act, but now they’re bubbling away, waiting and keeping their energy for the headliners. The outdoor venue is packed with people and the clear, dark night’s sky promises that for the next hour the crowd should stay dry and relatively cool. There’s a warm breeze blowing, occasionally ruffling hair or picking up a piece of garbage from the ground and moving it. San Diego in summer isn’t always this way, but it’s far more likely than the rain and fog in London, Mark muses.

The openers are quietly talking amongst themselves backstage, happy with their performance. They’re a young band that Mark helped to produce their second album and now are touring with them all over North America. The crowd seemed to like them and it hadn’t taken long for them to be won over. A radio station in Vancouver had described them as young Blink meets Billy Talent. Mark can’t disagree, but he doesn’t agree either. They have their own sound and their own identity that reaches past either Billy Talent or early Blink; it’s not an easy label to identify.

Mark stretches his neck just to work out a kink that had been bothering him. Glancing back, he notes Travis is tapping out a foreign, new rhythm on a practice pad to warm up his wrist and fingers. He’s been playing off and on for an hour or so now. The rhythm is catchy and makes him think of the joke songs had they been taken seriously and molded into a full length song. He makes a note to remember to ask him about it after the show.

The crowd is waiting. More than any show except perhaps Matt’s debut at SOMA, Mark knows this will be a talked about show. It’s meant to be a one-off to amaze and astound and perhaps even quell the wagging tongues of their fans. Or it’ll throw gasoline on the fire and blow up in their faces. It’s a serious thought, but he smirks at the imagery nonetheless. No amount of negotiation would bring them to this point; it was a result of the natural passing of time and taming of egos. Matt and Travis both know that they would have a special guest and both seem excited at the reaction it would garner from the audience. Mark has a feeling Matt is a different kind of excited, however, the kind of excited where you need to be cool about the situation and instead you over compensate. He has nothing to be worried about, not that he would worry, this is a one-time deal. Mark and Travis have told him that at different times. It will change the dynamic, no one knows exactly how but it will. Mark thinks perhaps he’s over thinking the whole situation.

A tech sets up another microphone on center stage, and the crowd’s attention shifts. Mark can hear it even as far as he is from the mass of people. Whispering, excitement, wondering, questioning, worry… all the emotions flow over the people young and old waiting to see them. They had talked about this, figured out the best way to be dramatic and yet stay true to the band. It had to be a “surprise” and yet still be casual.

‘This isn’t correcting a mistake,’ Mark had reiterated for what seemed like the thousandth time. ‘It’s just a fun show to surprise the fans.’ Matt hadn’t complained, hadn’t shown anything but the utmost respect and excitement for the idea. He had always been a fan of Blink 182. Matt brought a different kind of energy to the band, and it was an energy that Mark didn’t want to or need to replace. Matt Skiba brought his own fans from Alkaline Trio and brought in others based solely on talent (and looks). There were people in the audience who had only ever known Matt Skiba as the guitarist and vocalist of Blink 182. They had heard him singing Tom’s lyrics and playing Tom’s guitar riffs, but he was one of the faces of the band. The latest album was his child just as much as it was Mark’s or Travis’ or John’s. He was Blink’s step-dad, as he had told the crowd one day; he was still part of the family, he had never been an intruder even when it was just a replacement position for Musink. Matt had always patiently said, ‘I know. Even if it was, that’s cool.’ Mark began to wonder if he was trying to convince himself.

They had said nothing during their press coverage; Mark had dropped a couple hints on twitter eluding more towards playing his old pink bass. He didn’t intend to play the old instrument, but it was now onstage in plain view, taunting the crowd. Things like that got tongues wagging and speculations flying. He had heard every possible rumor in the month since they had decided to run with the idea. Matt had said that San Diego would be a special show, but when pressed had left it at that with a coy smile. Sneaky.

It was very quiet backstage for something that is supposed to be a fun, crazy surprise. Mark can’t help but be a little worried as he hasn’t seen their guest since early this afternoon during rehearsals. Given the situation that led to this arrangement Mark can’t help but be worried. The conversation during their negotiations and planning had been pleasant, warm even and while it wasn’t like “the old times” everything had felt relaxed and professional. He knows he’s thinking too much and he looks up. Where Mark is standing across the stage he can make out Matt talking to Travis. He doesn’t intrude, opting instead to just go back to watching the crowd from the darkness, stage right.

The techs hurry off-stage and all three members of Blink 182 take a collective breath. It wasn’t planned and perhaps that’s why it feels like something more than just a breath, like a gathering of energy. Both Mark and Matt are handed their instruments and Mark knows there’s another guitar waiting in the wings. The energy crackles on stage as Travis takes his place, stretching out his shoulders and bouncing briefly in the seat. Three beats on the snare just to hear stick meeting drum head. Matt takes stage left with his Fender Jaguar and matching in-ear monitors. The crowd is roaring and he smiles back. Mark steps on stage and the volume increases. He’s smiling sincerely as he grabs the mic.

“Oh! Hey San Diego, fancy seeing you here.”

The crowd roars and he wonders if they’re actually listening to his words or just giving off a Pavlovian response: bass player talks, we cheer. Guitarist talks, we cheer. Drummer talks, we lose our minds. He gives them the briefest of moments to cheer.

“Ok, we’ll play music now.”

It’s only a split second since he’s stopped talking but Travis picks up the slack and starts into Feeling This. They had started the majority of their shows this way and the crowd seemed to like it. Play a few older songs and then add in a joke before launching into a song from the new album. A good setlist helped keep fans that preferred Enema of the State on the same page as the new fans that started with Neighborhoods and California. 

He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, a pop punk pogo if there ever was one. They have a few more songs before the surprise, they had agreed to not play it too early and kill the buildup. Travis had suggested playing it as an encore and Mark found himself disagreeing, it should be in the middle with the crowd warmed up and excited to be there. Part of this is second nature and the bassist is traveling across the stage when he doesn’t have to sing, never staying in one place for too long.

Three songs in and Mark chats with the crowd and does his usual stage shtick. Fans liked pompous Mark, who was confident and slightly arrogant. Matt stayed quiet, occasionally chiming in with a line or two and Travis added in a drum accent to show just how lame Mark’s joke was. It was familiar and comfortable by now, like skipping around on stage or getting into Matt’s personal space and trying to ruin his concentration.

“I think these guys are louder than Chicago.” Matt says and Mark pretends to really think about that statement as the agreement from the audience explodes.

“Yeah,” Mark nods. “’Cause San Diego is known for being loud and explosive.”

“But, Chicago had staying power.” Matt grins.

Mark picked up the sentence and ran with it. “They can go aaaaalll night.”

Bah-dum-shhh.

The crowd roars and Matt laughs, shaking his head. When in doubt make a joke about sex. There were only two more songs. Originally, the next song was supposed to be Family Reunion, but that was moved down the list. Instead they put in Not Now.

Then it was one more song. 

This time a new song, from California, She’s Out of her Mind and the crowd cheers and sings along. Mark kept up his grin and skipped around Matt, returning to sing his side of the lyrics. There was a nervousness now, an unwelcome feeling that shouldn’t be present when the set was going so well. The crowd was on their side and seemed to be singing along with every word. He didn’t have to look to know the techs were getting equipment set up and ready to roll out when the lights dropped. They had rehearsed it a couple of times without any issues, it was Reading 2014 all over again after all. It was the participant that worried him.

It’s the last bar, he nails it and the lights drop to black. Thunderous applause and cheering fill the world. Mark stays out of the techs way as they hook up synth, cables and dials. The lighting techs ensure the spotlight is on manual rather than timing it like most of the show.

There’s just darkness and silence on stage even as the audience continues their applause, impatiently waiting for the next song. It’s a delicate balance because the time between songs could be too long and the crowd would get restless, even if the surprise should erase any bad thoughts from their head.

Worry leaves Mark’s head as the figure takes his spot behind the synth, one knee down and one knee up, adjusting his baseball cap to keep the spotlight out of his eyes. If Mark didn’t know better he’d think that he had traveled back in time to 2014. It’s Matt’s presence across the stage that reminds him this is new. They had had lengthy discussions about who would be on the synth versus who would play guitar and had settled on a compromise.

Spotlight.

There was a momentary pause as thousands of people register that Tom Delonge was kneeling on the stage starting the song Violence. He didn’t flinch, he kept the serious face he wore for Angels & Airwaves, and when he did interviews and tried to shrug off the people who insisted he was naive to believe UFOs or conspiracies were real. Mark could see him moving to the beat, adjusting a dial or flipping a switch as the song required it. DJ Tom with a synth. The crowd was deadly quiet save for someone hollering their approval in the distance. Tom had eyes only for the equipment in front of him and nothing else.

Long moments pass and Travis starts. The lights drop again, giving Tom time to stand and grab his guitar from a tech. He stood centre stage as lights flashed, pyrotechnics went off and then the lights spotlighted Matt. The crowd was regaining their senses and started to cheer and yell their approval. The music poured from his guitar like liquid sound, his body bending and curving as he played. Bass and drums interrupted briefly, but the guitar kept playing on. After the second interruption Tom stands next to Matt playing the same riff, digging deep into the rhythm of the song together.

Bass and drums interrupt again and the lights on stage explode into a fully lit scene. Travis is more arms than man, seeming more like the cephalopod on Mark’s Fender than a tattooed drummer. Mark finds himself staring at the scene on stage before he starts his own lyrics, deeper and softer than the melody. Matt is singing too, a higher note than Tom but almost harmonizing with him. It was better than rehearsal but still not pitch perfect. That suits this band fine; they’re never pitch perfect. Mark can’t help but watch them in the spotlight. Tom is singing most of the words correctly and not embellishing the syllables like he used to do.

The crowd is in amazement and excited, and that’s all Mark wanted, complete and utter surprise and amusement. Tom crosses the stage to Mark and they briefly play opposite each other, singing in the same mic before Tom crosses back. There’s the smallest flash of it feeling right, like a missing piece of a puzzle finally found beneath a couch cushion. The whole thing feels pretty natural considering Blink has never operated as a four piece before. The ending verse is coming up and all three meet in the middle at the mic. Mark had teased Matt that he would have to travel from his usual position for this part. By this point Tom is loosening up, letting a word grow a little longer or changing a verb into an adverb. They’re small Tom changes and Mark’s smile is a bit more genuine at Tom as the song ends and he goes to walk off stage. He was supposed to be there for one song and then come back on for the encore, instead the crowd starts chanting his name. Matt adds his own voice to the mix.

“I’m not used to this many people chanting my name!” He exclaims into the mic as he makes an abrupt 360. “This is going to be the best orgy ever! Daddy’s home.”

The crowd’s volume grows to the level of Travis giving a speech.

“Hold on,” Mark interrupts and looks confused. “You’re mommy, I’m daddy.”

“Nope.” Tom looks very smug, adjusting the brim of his hat in satisfaction. Mark’s brain attempts to connect the dots that are missing. “Matt’s the step-dad, so that makes me the daddy.” He’s really pleased with himself.

Mark wonders how closely he’s followed their shows to know about that line. He plays hands on his hips. “Fine, then if I’m the Mommy I’m only playing 70% of the songs since that’s all I’ll get paid for.” The female portion of the crowd, which is a lot of the crowd, applauds the statement.

“This is 2017; Blink can have two dads and a step-dad.” Matt has chimed in and a different portion of the audience is now losing it. How very modern of them to be so inclusive.

Travis is beginning to drum, picking little rhythms to lay under the conversation. It’s not that he’s impatient, just this is his way of contributing to the conversation all while reminding them that they’re still playing a show. Mark segueways into Los Angeles awkwardly, which is roundly mocked by both guitarists. This helps to form a rhythm that begins to coalesce between Matt and Tom. There’s a natural flow to it and when a new song comes up, Matt naturally leads, giving way to Tom when it’s one of his. Mark finds he has to remind himself that this isn’t a permanent thing no matter how comfortable it is right now. Tom has his company to run, his band to perform with and a family that he needs to spend time with. He made it very clear that he had things he needed to do. The drama from before isn’t going to just be forgotten, but it’s nice for the fans to see them together to reinforce that this is the same band. Mommy and Daddy still love you all. 

They play four songs in the encore including San Diego which Tom roundly mocks.”You missed me, I can tell.” 

Surprisingly no one’s ego gets in the way and even weeks after the show their responses are genuine when the press asks about them getting back together as a four piece.

“We’ll see what happens. We all have our own commitments,” and here they each would list their own projects, “but it was a lot of fun to play together.”


End file.
